


all men must die

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Kink Meme, Red Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“W-where’s…T-Theon, I…”</p><p>Jon had already scoured the hall for their friend. For all he knew, Theon was dead like all the others. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he lied through his teeth. <em>Greyjoy, seven hells, where are you?</em> </p><p>“Snow,” a voice rasped in his ear. Theon’s hand joined Jon and Robb’s. <em>Right on cue, Greyjoy.</em> Blood trickled down his chin, a quarrel in his chest. His tunic was stained a dark red. <em>The wine will flow, alright</em>, Jon thought bitterly, hate blooming in him like he’d never felt before. “Didn’t think you’d get rid of me so easily, did you?”</p><p>Robb squeezed both of their hands once, weakly, then shakily rose to his knees. He gripped the bench, gritting his teeth. Jon watched in awe, amazed by the strength his brother had. <em>The only king I’d bend the knee to…</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	all men must die

**Author's Note:**

> i really hate myself for doing this uhm oops  
> ~yay self-hatred~
> 
> based on the prompt: _AU where Jon goes to war with Robb and Theon never goes back to Pyke. They die by his side at the Red Wedding._

_Boom doom doom._

The drums echoed in Jon’s ears, drowning out the clatter of swords and screams of agony. He stared at his sword, hanging on a peg on the wall. If he got up, he could go and get it, and slit Walder Frey’s throat...

The blood pulsing out of the arrow wound in his calf protested. He sunk back on his knees a moment after he attempted to stand, sucking in deep breaths. But it hurt to breathe, too; the arrow in his shoulder pounded with any slight movement.

He did not want to die a coward’s death. But he was powerless, incapacitated, forced to watch as his men fell one by one. The arrows pelted the bench, a rhythmic tapping mimicking that of the drums.

He looked over the bench and wished that he hadn’t. Jon screamed as an axe sunk into Dacey’s belly, blood gushing onto the floor. Dacey, who had been one of his truest friends. Dacey, who had taught him that women could fight just as well as men. Dacey, who lay dead on floor.

“I danced with her,” he whispered, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in his leg. He swore he could still feel the warmth of her hips on his hands. Hot tears burnt as the back of his eyes, clouding his vision as he looked over to Robb. His brother was still alive, but with three arrows in him. “Robb,” he said hoarsely, reaching over to run his fingers through his sweaty auburn locks. “Robb, listen to me. We have to leave.”

“Jon,” Robb choked out, finding his hand. “M-Mother…”

Jon peeked over the fallen table. He locked eyes with Catelyn immediately, the woman hiding under a table. She was safe, she was alive. A wave of relief hit him; _gods, please, if I can’t survive, let Catelyn…let Robb…_ “I’m sorry,” he mouthed, a tear running down his cheek when she mustered a smile. “She’s fine,” Jon assured his brother quietly, squeezing his hand.

“W-where’s…T-Theon, I…”

Jon had already scoured the hall for their friend. For all he knew, Theon was dead like all the others. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he lied through his teeth. _Greyjoy, seven hells, where are you?_

“Snow,” a voice rasped in his ear. Theon’s hand joined Jon and Robb’s. _Right on cue, Greyjoy_. Blood trickled down his chin, a quarrel in his chest. His tunic was stained a dark red. _The wine will flow, alright,_ Jon thought bitterly, hate blooming in him like he’d never felt before. “Didn’t think you’d get rid of me so easily, did you?”

Robb squeezed both of their hands once, weakly, then shakily rose to his knees. He gripped the bench, gritting his teeth. Jon watched in awe, amazed by the strength his brother had. _The only king I’d bend the knee to…_

The music stopped. Jon screwed his eyes shut and thanked the gods; his head was still pounding with the now-silent drums. Theon still held his hand, but even that was no comfort to him. The smell of blood and death was heavy in the air, and the metallic taste was sharp on his tongue.

“The King in the North arises,” Walder Frey’s cruel voice japed. Jon refused to listen to him, refused to believe that any of this was happening. _Think of Sansa, think of Arya, think of home…_

“ _The Dornishman’s wife was as fair as the sun…”_ It took Jon a moment to realize that Theon was _singing_. His friend’s tiny smile was bloody, red like the wedding. His eyes had a slightly mad look to them, but he continued to sing. “ _Her kisses were warmer than spring…”_

 _Doom boom doom_.

“Theon,” Jon hissed, splitting his attentions from Lady Catelyn to Theon. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Greyjoy replied, whistling out a breath. “I’m dying, Snow. Like…like they say…valor…valley…what the fuck do they say?” Only then did Jon notice Theon’s second wound, a deep, ugly gash in his stomach. Theon’s other hand lay upon it, pressing down to stop the bleeding.  

“I swear it by the old gods and new, we…we will take no vengeance…” _Catelyn…we have already lost…_ One part of him was still hanging on, though. Perhaps he was still clinging to the distant memory of three green boys at Winterfell.

“Only a fool would believe such blather. D’you take me for a fool, my lady?”

“I take you for a father. Keep me for a hostage, Edmure as well if you haven’t killed him. But let Robb go.”

“Have me as well, my lord,” Jon called, standing up. He leaned on the bench for support, and Greyjoy’s hand was fisted in his pant leg. His vision was hazy, but the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. _Is this what dying feels like?_ He tried to smile at Catelyn, but it ended up looking more like a wince.

“And me,” Theon added, letting Jon help him to his feet. Jon had an arm around Theon’s waist, holding him up, and Theon did the same for Jon.

“A dying bastard and a dying kraken,” Walder sneered.

“No,” Robb whispered. “Mother, Jon, Theon…”

“Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, _please_. Save yourself…” She held the dagger at Jinglebell’s throat, her hand trembling violently. From next to Jon, Theon was still singing _The Dornishman’s Wife_ under his breath. “If not for us, then for Jeyne.”

“Jeyne?” Robb stood up, tightly gripping onto the bench. Jon reached out his other arm and cupped his brother’s elbow, steadying him. “Mother, Jon, Theon…Grey Wind…” _Ghost_ , Jon thought, wishing he were here with him.

“Go to him. Now. Robb, _walk out of here_.”

“Go,” Jon croaked in agreement, tears mingling with the blood on his face from when he’d gotten punched in the nose. If he were to die, at least his brother would live. “You have to go, please. _Please_.” Theon’s head lolled onto Jon’s shoulder; the older boy was still singing through muffled sobs. Jon could feel Greyjoy’s blood start to seep into his own clothes.

“And why would I let him do that?” Walder demanded.

“On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, I will trade your boy’s life for Robb’s. A son for a son.” When she looked over to Jon, he saw that she was crying, yet her expression remained stoic. “I’m sorry,” she said, and that was all he needed to hear.

“A son for a son, _heh_. But that’s a grandson…and he was never much use.”

Jon’s arm was violently shoved away and he staggered backwards. He tightened his grip on Theon as he watched Roose Bolton in horror. “Jaime Lannister sends his regards.” Jon and Catelyn screamed when Roose thrust his longsword into Robb’s heart. Theon snapped back to reality, his eyes hard and wild.

“Fucking Leech Lord!” he shouted, spitting in Roose’s face. Tears streamed down Theon’s face and he thrashed in Jon’s arms.  

“Theon, Theon,” Jon begged, holding Greyjoy close, “you’ll bleed out if you keep moving. Please.” He shut his eyes, refusing to look at his brother’s corpse. _None of this is real, it’s not real, you’ll wake up and you’ll be back at Winterfell…_

Jinglebell fell onto the floor with a _thud_ , and Catelyn’s maniacal screams and laughs echoed off the stone walls.

“ _Catelyn_!” Jon shrieked as his stepmother fell forward, blood spurting out of her throat. She was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, and now she was gone.

Theon slumped in his arms, exhausted. “ _As he lay on the ground with the darkness around and the taste of blood on his tongue…”_ Greyjoy dropped to his knees, the blood pumping out of his stomach rhythmically now. “ _His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and laughed and he sung…_ ” He stared up at Jon, looking like the scared little boy that had come to Winterfell all those years ago. “I’m sorry. All those times I called you a bastard…I never meant it.”

Jon’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. “I know you didn’t. And I’m sorry I called you a hostage.”

Theon’s lips curled into a sad smile as a nameless Frey came behind him. “ _Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman’s taken my life_ …” He landed face first on the floor with a slit throat.

Jon swallowed thickly, his body wracking with tremors. “ _But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife._ ” With a stab in the chest, his eyes fluttered shut.


End file.
